


Everyday a Little Death

by Willowingends



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood, F/F, Hanahaki Disease, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sickness, it's not stated that she dies so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22516468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowingends/pseuds/Willowingends
Summary: The tightening in her chest had started a long time before this. Since she had carelessly tossed out those words on a pirate ship. But the problems breathing, those were new. And had started the night Beau told Nott her secret. The first time she had said those words and realized what she could never have.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 3
Kudos: 105





	Everyday a Little Death

Humans were fragile and Beau was sick and tired of being one. Even with all her toned muscles and hard work, she was what she would only refer to as  _ soft. _ Yes, Yasha had more mass to her and was more comfortable to sleep on. Yes, Fjord got knocked down more often than she did. Yes, Jester was soft and pliant and made of the most beautiful curve-- 

No, no,  _ no _ ! She had to stop thinking like that she had to--

Too late. 

Beau gagged as she felt the tightness in her chest press up her throat. A thickness that filled her mouth with the taste of copper, iron, and dirt; and coated her tongue. Bending over in the shadows of the alley behind Kamaruth Cottage, she braced herself against the wall as a wet cough brought up more of the unpleasant mixture. With anger, she spat out the mess of blood and blue petals onto the cobblestoned path. As she wiped away the line of blood that trickled down her chin, her eyes darted away and to the side. Too upset to confront the truth before her. 

Humans were weak. Always catching the sickness. Always dying from the flowers that blossomed within the rib cage. They just didn't live on the same time scale as elves and gnomes, couldn't outlast the feelings until they either bloomed or were cut out. They weren't like dwarves and tieflings, they couldn't force out the poison or burn the roots.

When humans fell prey to the twisting vines of fate, they died. That was all there was to it. 

She'd read enough cases of it to know. 

And Beau couldn't afford this sickness right now. There was too much to do. There were too many important matters that were being juggled by the hands of a gang of misfit adventurers who were all running from  _ something _ . She didn't need to add another facet to that. She needed to stay clear headed. Be a confident voice that could speak when need be. It wouldn't do to hack up azaleas and camellias all over the table when meeting with royalty and pompous assholes. 

How the hell had she ended up here? 

A bitter laugh fought its way through clenched teeth and more petals got caught in the pockets of her cheeks as she wheezed. She attempted to swallow the blood back down but the petals fluttered against her windpipe, and she was coughing again. It was like her entire body was fighting her, pushing the evidence of her foolishness to the forefront of her awareness. 

“Beauregard?”

The rough whisper surprised her and she whirled, fists raised and her stance switching to that of one ready to fight. Her lips were smeared with blood that curled into a challenging sneer as she sized up the silhouette that had come up behind her. Tall, hulking but not, looming and unfamiliar, but also perfectly in place near her and-- 

Ah, Yasha has followed her outside. 

_ Fuck _ .

Her shoulders slumped as a rattling breath filled her lungs. She attempted to stand but swayed and she felt her world unfocus for a moment. Then she was in Yasha's arms, supported and steadied, as the mismatched eyes combed over the petals and blood on the ground.

"Oh." Yasha's voice was quiet, rough, but not like she is being strangled--just that the words were difficult to form. It was a soft sound that forced Beau to close her eyes tightly. Yasha spoke again, "So much more has changed than I thought."

Yasha’s lips had drawn tight across her teeth as she pulled back the loose strands of hair at Beau’s top knot as the coughing took over her again. Her other hand, warm and gentle, rubbed soothing circles on her back. Silent and watching, until she could help the monk steady herself against the wall. The way she stared at Beau wasn’t accusing or demanding. “So, I assume you know what this--” she gestured vaguely at the mess on the floor, “--means?”

“Yeah. It means I’m a fucking dumbass.”

Silence. Blissful silence. Beau closed her eyes and let her head rest against the wall, letting her weight sink against the cold stone. It felt good. It felt better than the twisting in her lungs. She didn't want to talk, she didn't want to think. 

"Azaleas." Her voice rumbles and Beau flinches away from the way Yasha's fingers pick up the petals and hold them up to the light. The way her blood drips down her fingers from the delicate petals. "It has a special meaning, I've read. It means you want someone to take care of themselves, because you won't be able to. Who are you afraid you can't protect?" Her eyes narrow slightly, thoughtful, more observant than she's given credit for. "Is this why you're avoiding her?"

Beau remains silent, glaring. In the silence Yasha picked her up and gently walked her back into the cottage. The windows are still dark, the candles are out. Beau sinks into the bed in her lonely room and watches as Yasha sits down across from her. She flashes a bitter smile as she closes her eyes and let's the darkness take her. 

\-----

Yasha doesn't let it go. Her eyes follow Beau when she's not reading outside and Beau takes refuge in the library. Even if she's not alone there, even if Jester follows and Caleb comes with her but- 

But Jester doesn't notice, but Beau doesn't mind. She wants her to smile to see her happy. Even to see her crying over the deck of tarot cards which, is ridiculous, but so  _ Jester _ that it hurts her. She's amazing she's so bright and Beau doesn't want to smother that light in anyway. She feels guilty even for getting this sickness because she knows, knows that all Jester sees in her is a good friend and that's fine. It's the line she has always been willing to walk. Even if it kills her, she flashes a smirk as Jester asks one of the Cobalt Soul an insane question. 

She loves her and it is the sweetest pain. 

The feeling of Caleb's intense blue eyes showing he knows  _ something  _ burns her neck. But he's not going to ask anything, he's too consumed by his own work. 

And then everything is moving too fast, everything is happening so suddenly, there is so much to do. So much she needs to do, to learn. And the next moment of peace, the next moment she can think, the next moment she can let her tight control on her body go, is spent getting to know Essek over wine and fruit and a hot tub. 

And his eyes are all too knowing when she excuses herself with a wet cough. 

She doesn't hear his footsteps, but she isn't surprised when she senses an uncertain hand above her shoulder. 

"Don't." 

Her words are wet and raspy and she's no stranger to the taste of blood in her mouth, coating her teeth. But she is still getting used to the sharper pain, the tightening in her chest that makes it harder to breath. The wheezing that chokes her and the now full clumps of petals that rest in her hands. She had been trying to catch them since she hadn't reached the bathroom in time. 

Essek waves his hand over them and the small blue flowers disappear. 

"You should be careful with those." His voice is just as calm and controlled as always and Beau can't understand her luck that the two who have discovered her secret are the two least likely to have an emotional reaction. "Sea holly, for all its words of affection, have dangerous leaves. They prick and tear easier than expected. It leaves one bleeding for a long time."

"Know your flowers do you?" She shoots back, drawing herself up. Her shoulders are still tense but she flashes him a smile she knows is all red. All gruesome. 

Painted with all the evidence of a weakened body and a stupid heart. But it's worth it. It's worth fighting through the pain to have another day of bright blue. 

"Have you considered having them removed? There is a manner of doing so that is painless. I-- I have experience with it. I can help you with it. That is what friends would do?" 

He looks uncomfortable but he doesn't flinch away and dammit she likes him. He's a good man and she can understand pushing to be more to prove others wrong and dammit. She simply stares him down instead of lashing out at him like she could. That's the kinder thing to do, right?

"Is it the barbarian? Or perhaps the… ah, Nott? Is that why you do not want them removed?" 

"What?" Beau blinks a couple times in confusion and a bit of shock. After they had pushed him to discomfort by asking him about his own personal life, he's pushing her about hers? "No! No. Just. Forget it yeah? Forgot you saw anything." He doesn't wilt but his eyes shutter and she wants to kick herself. "Fuck, no Essek. We're doing this whole sharing thing and I want to keep that up because you're a fucking cool dude I just." She lifted up her hand and wiped at the stupid tears burning at her eyes. 

This time his hand touches her and she can tell by the way it doesn't feel quite there that he is nervous to touch her but she appreciates it. It grounds her as he stands in silence beside her, his cloaked form shielding her from any curious eyes that might be trying to peep down the hallway. (She knows her friends, her family, too well to think no one is trying to spy on them.)

"You should tell them. I don't mean just the one causing the pain but the rest of the Mighty Nein as well. They deserve to know. It is better than having you die unexpectedly and gruesomely in front of them."

"That's kind of how I always planned to go." She responds, brusque and thankful that he's giving her this chance to clean away the tears from her cheeks. 

"Don't you think you deserve a happier end by now?"

Her chest hurts, it hurts so bad, and it's not just the roots and sharp leaves piercing her lungs.

\-----

She wants to help Nott, she wants do everything she can for Caduceus. She doesn't want to go home. She's not scared. Beau refuses to even entertain the thought that she might be fucking scared of her father. She just-- doesn't want to see Kamordah. The steaming vents, the ugly houses, the same people. She left that all behind her. 

She doesn't want them to see her with this  _ thing  _ growing in her chest. 

But there are moments of respite. 

Sitting on the hill with Yasha the tug of roots in her lungs doesn't hurt as bad as she watches Nott and Jester play their game of passing ships. She laughs and chokes and hacks up the petals as Yasha beats on her back. It aches but it's worth it. It's so worth it to see Jester's smile when she returns. 

It's worth it when she curls up so close to the other woman. When she feels her arm rest so casually on her side as they all huddle together. It is a guiltless sin as she presses her face into her wild blue hair, feeling the press of the solid horns against her cheeks. She is dying, isn't she allowed these moments she had denied herself before for fear of scaring the woman away?

It is nothing more than good friends would do, Beau reminds herself again and again. 

She keeps her own hands firmly on her own body. 

The petals are red now. It's okay. Jester is smiling and happy. Eager and bright. She cuts through the hazy dull grey of the rain.

With every jostle of the horse below her, she feels a cough building. When everyone has drawn a bit behind her, she covertly coughs into her hands. Heavy, wracking things that leave her gasping and wheezing, rattling as dirt fills her mouth. Thorns clog her throat, tearing and ripping. 

She's always hated rosebuds; the tea made from the buds, the coiling of the petals, the expectation of divine beauty. Rosebuds for youth and beauty. Something so "Romantic" for her beautiful and playful Jester. 

Rosebuds could fill the ditches on the sides of the road they follow. 

The rain seeps into her bones, making the coughs worse. She can feel the tension in her shoulders that pull tighter and tighter, making it hard to breathe. She's getting colder, dizzier. She's so close to home, she can see the lights on the horizon. She's terrified and she hates it. Hates herself all the more than she had before.

Sick and stupid and weak human.

The world turns for Beau and she is sliding off of W.C. Jr. and into the mud. The horse for what it's worth, was well trained. It stops as soon as she is sliding from its back. Beau wonders if that shriek is coming from within her head, screaming at her to get up. Maybe her companions behind her hopping off their mounts? She sees them, hazy figures in the rain.

She closes her eyes. 

It wouldn't be a bad place to die, here with them, and not in her hometown. She had always said she wouldn't die in that shithole. And she won't. She'll die here, on the road just outside, surrounded by family. This was better than  _ there. _

It's hard to breathe. It's so fucking--damned--hard to breathe. Every gasp of air she manages to rattles through her teeth tastes like the mud in her throat, clumping behind her teeth, coating her tongue. The petals are sweet, so sweet clashing against the gritty dirt.

Roses, so like the smell of Jester's childhood bed that they had shared. Of course it was a rose. How romantic. The rose that would kill her.

"What's the matter with her?" She can hear Jester's voice crying out over the gentle drizzle of grey. 

"She's sick." Yasha says carefully, her voice weighed down with the knowledge Beau had entrusted her. 

"She has been sick for a longtime, ja?" Caleb's voice is close, his hand pressing back the hair from her wet face. His fingers drift down and she can feel him gently scrap them through the dirt spilling from her lips. Then he is turning her on her side so she can spit up the flowers. 

"Is it like Fjord? With the water? And Uka'toa? Is the Wild Mother trying to kill Beau?" A frantic, fearful voice from Jester, as warm hands come to cradle her head. She tries to shake her away, push her away, and tries to push herself up. 

She doesn't want to hear her cry, doesn't want to hear her worry. She will  _ not _ die listening to Jester cry. This is the thought that spurs her to move. Her hand slides in the mud and she growls as those familiar warm hands catch her, stop her from falling flat on her face in the mud. "I'm fine. I'll be fine, just give me a sec." Each word is accompanied by a tearing feeling, a spit of blood. Jester wrings her hands as she watches and guilt wracks Beau again as she turns her face away from the tiefling. 

"We should hurry to Kamordah!" 

"No!" No, they can't see me like this!" Her voice cracks. Her eyes seek out Fjord, searching for backup. He, of all of them, must know why she can't be seen this weak. Not by her father, not after everything she had been trying to accomplish. 

"I believe we should camp here and have a talk." Fjord says quietly. 

The hut is set up quickly and Beau finds herself quickly, and carefully, laid on a set of bed rolls by Yasha and her friends (her family, gods what would she be without them) gathered around her. She flashes a sharp grin that she knows must be scarlet red. "Come on guys, I'm not an old man dying in bed."

"But… you are." Caduceus frowns as he presses a hand against the side of her chest. Her ribs clench under the touch and she gasps in pain. And then glares at him, Bastard.

"What? What do you mean she's dying?" An uncomfortable weight settles, a silent blanket smothering them all at Jester's demanding questions. Her blue eyes search their faces and Beau cannot meet her gaze as her hands grab the blanket.

It's Nott who speaks. 

"Have you heard of the floral sickness?" 

Jester's eyebrows knit together for a moment, as though searching her memories. "You mean the one in the stories where someone has flowers growing inside of them because they love someone? And then when they confess it, it all goes away and they live happily ever after?" 

"Yes…" There is hesitance in Nott's reply and Beau croaks out a laugh that ends in a sick splatter of disgusting petals across the bed roll. 

"What those stories don't tell you," Beau starts and it's a painful effort to fight back the bitterness bubbling in her chest , "is that if they don't love you back, you die. The flowers fill you up until you can't breathe and you die. The end."

She raises her eyes to Jester and it breaks her heart to see the pain on her face. "Okay, so we go and hunt them down and make them realize they love you! Is it Reani? Keg? We can find them, I can message them right now!" Jester is on her feet already and she's vibrating where she stands, desperation in her every inch. 

"That's… not how it works Jester. They have to truly love her back." Nott's voice is soft and gentle. The same tone she takes with Luc. 

"But who can't love Beau! I--! I love Beau!"

The declaration tore a hole through her heart better than any arrow. Beau rasped out a laugh that became a coughing fit and she wanted to sob. It wasn't the same and it wasn't enough.

The coughing fit lasted so long she got dizzy. Her world spun again and she was reaching, reaching out. Searching for the bright blue sky and the glorious laugh, not these broken sobs. But she couldn't find a witty joke to say between the wall of flowers that gnashed against her teeth. 

"I love you so much Jess," she choked out, eyes closing tightly. She hadn't wanted to use her last breath for that. She had been trying so hard to not do that. Leave words of comfort, leave words of humor, leave some stupid remark, not to go sanctifying her. To leave with that, to leave words of endless guilt. 

Damn. Maybe she had never deserved Jester in the first place. Or never deserved anything at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I might write an epilogue to this. Or two separate endings so you can choose how it ends but, for now, I leave you with this and you can decide what happens after.


End file.
